


Dreaming about the things that we could be

by Anki_Shai



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dain is an ass, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Thorinduil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2017-12-31 13:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anki_Shai/pseuds/Anki_Shai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin just doesn't know what to do, how to feel or if what he has with Thranduil is leading to somewhere. Thranduil is allowing himself feelings he thought forgotten, he has given himself to something that may as well break his heart and end his eternal life. In the end, the both of them are just afraid and stubborn to go for it without so much as hurting each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming about the things that we could be

He became a secret.

Thranduil watched the source of his affections passing around a golden cup filled with red wine. He was smiling, sharing a loud song with his kin while evading any kind of contact with the elf. The King of Mirkwood hated it. He was a shameful secret, one the Prince of the line of Durin was not ready to reveal to anyone. Not now, not ever.

At the very beginning of their affair, Thranduil thought it had been a good idea to share their time in the deepest shadows of Erebor, to share the silent nights an filling them with their own sounds and visions. But, soon after, Thranduil noticed how different Thorin would react whenever they were in public. The elf was not asking tenderness nor was he asking for a love declaration, the mere thought was absurd even to him. But Thorin…he was cold and unkind, he always made sure everyone knew a dwarf like him would never be near an elf unless it was politically necessary.

Thorin Oakenshield was a cruel and methodic male, manipulating to the max Thranduil’s feelings.

Thranduil realized just how much in trouble he was in when he realized he was confused and hurt by the dwarf’ behavior. At first, and quite naively for someone his age and race, he thought Thorin’s behavior was due to the coming to terms with their growing affections. Thranduil believed Thorin was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact he was in some sort of relationship with an elf, something that was highly frowned upon by many, if not all the dwarves.  Every time Thranduil would bring his concern up he would be silence with kisses and touches, with whispered words and tender moments shared between them. Thranduil would then give in, he was hungry for Thorin’s affections, Thorin had made him felt things he had forgotten.  And so, he allowed it. He allowed Thorin’s cruel words, his arrogant behavior, his masked insults directed towards him and his kin.

But, for every action, for every word, Thranduil knew it was Dain behind all of it. He didn’t know why or how, but the dwarf had a control over Thorin that was fueled by the stories of past glories and future victories. Dain would share secrets with Thorin the young and future King of Erebor was avid for. It was Balin, though, the only one who noticed. He was the only one Thorin had shared the secret with, the one who would stand behind the scenes and frown his friend’s behavior. In the great hall of Erebor Thranduil and Balin shared seats near each other, both of them watching the celebration between Dain and Thorin.

“Are you enjoying the celebrations, my Lord Thranduil?” Asked King Thrór looking over at Thranduil.

“Indeed.” Replied Thranduil tearing his eyes away from Thorin and directing his icy eyes to the King.

“You must be used to a different kind of celebrations, though.” Continued the King twirling around his cup. “I’ve heard that, in their own right, your celebrations can be quite an event.”

“They are different.” Thranduil sensed Dain and Thorin approaching their table as he continued speaking. “Our celebrations can be exceptional if we have the right incentive. Other times, they are just merely events.”

“Boring events, if I may add.” Dain exclaimed loudly sitting down with a cup of mead on his hand, he turned gleaming eyes to Thranduil with a half smirk. “I can’t even believe an elf knows how to have a good time. Am I right, Thorin?”

“Well, I bet they are. What kind of fun does an elf know if he spends his time contemplating nature and reading books and playing those infernal instruments.”

Thranduil clenched his jaw, feeling his hand tightening the grip on the cup in his hand. Thrór frowned making a strange sound with his throat, silencing his grandson. Balin for his part pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing at the mocking stare Dain was shooting Thranduil.

“Come on, my Lord Thranduil. We mean not offense.” Said Dain with a tone of voice that made them know he meant every single word. “But, you’re right, we are different. Your kin and mine are different. We cannot mingle unless is in a political field and even there it can be difficult.”

 Thrór shrugged not even noticing the real tension at his table, he never noticed the tensing of Thranduil nor the sudden look on his grandson’s face. Balin was about to speak but with a simple gesture from Thranduil he stopped.

Thranduil reached his limit, he could feel his heart beating fast, his mind going blank as he watched and heard every single word. As he observed the sudden cold stare Thorin sent his way and that brief moment in which his eyes warm in a silent apology. Thorin would do or say nothing; he felt bad but not enough to stop it. Thranduil realized then that he had given too much to someone who was not ready to give nothing in exchanged. It was not the fact Thorin had mocked him before sending him an apologetic stare, it wasn’t the fact he had agreed with Dain when making fun of Thranduil…It was the fact Thorin had been playing with him all this time.

“Speaking of the difference, my Lord Thranduil you will forgive me but, when speaking about being a real male we dwarves are the best example.” Dain elbowed Thorin and then directed his dark eyes to Thranduil, smiling nastily at the elf and then turning around to speak to the King. “Uncle Thrór, you should be proud! You should have heard the screams coming from that room!"

Dain screamed out with glee and proudness on his face, he put a hand on Thorin’s shoulder before continuing.

"My Prince Thorin here is no longer a young lad. He is now a full-fledge Dwarf! That woman had a silly, well-fucked smile on her face after they exited the room!"

Thrór hit the table with his palm, cheering his grandson along with other dwarves at the table. Thorin smiled proudly while Dain recounted the events leading to the young maid and Thorin’s adventures. Thranduil felt a lump on his throat; he could not stop his eyes from focusing on the source of his affections. Thorin was looking everywhere but at him and Thranduil felt something inside him died. He tried to speak but nothing came and suddenly Thranduil felt like a fool, like some youngster giving himself to a young, forbidden love without thinking about the consequences, without minding his duty and his position.

Thranduil lowered his gaze, thankful that everyone at the table was paying attention to the story Dain was narrating and congratulating Thorin and not minding the elf who had a crestfallen expression on his face. All but one noticed this. Balin growled lowly, glaring with anger at Dain who wore an amused expression. He turned around and felt sympathy for the Elf King.

"Do you feel okay, Lord Thranduil?" Thranduil blinked lowering his face.

"He didn’t." Balin whispered, Thranduil snorted shrugging. "My Lord Thranduil, tell me Thorin didn’t…"

"It does not matter." He said with coldness tingeing his voice." I was a fool, Master Balin. An Idiot. And if there is something I hate is being mocked at and being made a fool. I’ll leave tomorrow; I’m going back back to Mirkwood. I think I have learnt everything I need to learn about Dwarves and their loyalty."

Balin wanted to say something, anything, but Thranduil stood up rather fast and left without anyone noticing his absence. The dwarf sat there watching at the now empty spot for a long moment, a noise beside him startled him. Balin lifted his eyes to see Thorin watching him with a frown on his face.

“Where is he?”

Balin lifted an eyebrow shaking his head, “He left, after hearing about your incredible adventures with the young maid from the Iron Mountains.”

Thorin clenched his jaw, turning his head to see Dain engaging the King in another conversation. Balin stood up facing Thorin and making sure his friend heard him well.

“You’ve been playing around with fire, Thorin.”

“It was nothing. Just…it was a mere game the both of us were enjoying; there were never promises between us.” Replied the young Prince, but even as he said the words he felt the foolishness behind them.

“For you, perhaps. But, Thorin, Elves, and Elves of King Thranduil’s kin do not give away their affections being it physical or emotional away without their hearts being compromised.

Thorin opened his mouth to protest but Balin silenced him with a glare, “Don’t. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Just, think about it and once you have decided what to do fix this.”

Thorin felt his heart shrink, his mind betraying any attempt of remaining strong. He remembered the soft smile adorning the beautiful face of the Elven King, his soft voice and the enticing moans coming from him in their moments of passion.  The young Prince of Erebor lowered his head filled with heavy thoughts; he really didn’t know what to do. But, he knew what he wanted and, as always, he decided that he would obtain his heart’s desire. And, for the very beginning, his heart has longed for the Elven King to be in his arms.

 

 


End file.
